


Unlocked to Your Occasions

by kenzotenma



Series: Slings and Arrows [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betaed So We Live Like Claude, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Faerghus Four + More, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, YuriRarepairWeek2021, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc Backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzotenma/pseuds/kenzotenma
Summary: Felix goes looking for Yuri and finds him foraging through Countess Rowe's makeup. (Yuri Rare Pair Week, Day 1: Makeup)“You should in all sense be much bound to him. For as I hear he was much bound for you.”-Merchant of Venice, 5.1.135-136
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Series: Slings and Arrows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119149
Kudos: 4





	1. Seven of Cups, Reversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix goes looking for Yuri and finds him foraging through Countess Rowe's makeup. (Yuri Rare Pair Week, Day 1: Makeup)
> 
> “You should in all sense be much bound to him. For as I hear he was much bound for you.”  
>  _-Merchant of Venice, 5.1.135-136_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Yuri Rare Pair Week on Twitter... and the Yurilix brainworms got to me.
> 
> And of course, the lovely [Telsiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telsiree/pseuds/Telsiree) has beta'd this chapter! (And speaking of rare pairs... they are writing an incredible Hapi/Edelgard series that I know you will love as much as I do. Please go check it out~)
> 
> Also!! In addition to editing my fic, my partner [Telsiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telsiree/pseuds/Telsiree) commissioned [@blamedorange](https://twitter.com/blamedorange) to create some art for this chapter/drabble--for which I am so utterly grateful and moved. I cannot thank both of you enough! I included the art at the end of this chapter ❤️❤️

_Great Tree Moon, 1176  
_ _Castle Rowe_

This is the first time Felix has been to Castle Rowe. The new year brings about diplomatic trips around the Kingdom and rainy days like this one. Stormy skies prevent him from sparring with Gwendal and the other knights, which is unfortunate. And it’s not like Felix has Glenn to keep him company—since becoming a Royal Knight, his older brother must stay behind at Fhirdiad.

As he studies the raindrops snake down the window glass, Felix wonders if it’s raining in the Kingdom capital. He sighs, wishing he could be there training with Glenn and Dimitri instead of stuck inside here while his father and Count Rowe talk about taxes and trade and all the boring things Felix is expected to be learning about. Since Glenn went off and became a knight… their father expects Felix to become the diplomat. Irritating, really. He’s always felt more at ease with a sword in his hand than a quill and ink.

Felix looks over his shoulder at the two girls sitting in the middle of the sitting room—Francine, Gwendal’s daughter, who sits with a needlework project in her lap, demure and quiet, and Astrid, Count Rowe’s daughter, who is chattering happily and unrelentingly to her seemingly uninterested friend. Rolling his eyes, he stands and stretches—bored of their company, even though he doubts he can call it such. It’s likely neither of them noticed his presence in the room to begin with. And it’s not like he’ll sit and sew with them.

He could browse the bookshelves for a thrilling knight’s tale, but instead Felix opts to wander the halls of Castle Rowe in search of the Count’s other child and Glenn’s closest friend—Yuri. He hadn’t seen him about the estate since Felix and his father had arrived at the castle late yesterday evening, and part of him is disappointed.

Considering how boring his father and the Count are, and that Francine and Astrid have nothing in common with him… Yuri is the only one who is interesting enough and worth Felix’s time. Daresay, he was even looking forward to sparring with Yuri during this trip. He’s the only one of their group, aside from the adults, that has been able to beat Glenn in a match. If only the weather would cooperate, he’d demand the older boy to teach him how to defeat his brother once and for all.

Felix creeps down the hallways of the castle, careful to avoid the Count’s office where he hears him and his father laugh behind closed doors. His peeking into rooms earns him a few perturbed stares from the servants, so when he finally finds Yuri, his face is burning with embarrassment.

Though, when he realizes that the older boy is rummaging through a dressing table in what Felix is slow to realize is the Countess’ chambers… powder puff held to his cheekbone… his face grows even hotter.

If Yuri didn’t meet his eyes and greet him, he would have slammed the door and willed himself to ignore the sight he had beheld. Instead, he’s invited into the room and he obliges, though reluctantly. The door shuts softly behind him as he steps closer to Yuri who’s perched on the edge of the vanity bench.

“Don’t act like you’ve seen a ghost,” Yuri quips at him with a wave of a slender hand. He’s half looking at him, and half at his reflection in the mirror. The curtains are drawn, letting in a dreary cast of cool light that delicately catches metallic trim of the pots of rouge laid out on the dressing table.

Felix has seen his own mother sweep pigment onto her brow bone and rosy her lips and cheeks. He’s even seen Ingrid allow the ladies-in-waiting at Castle Fhirdiad to get her ready for special occasions, albeit begrudgingly. But _this…_

“Aren’t you… _we_ not supposed to… do that?” Felix asks, hesitating on what exactly to call what he’s seeing without being completely rude. A young man wearing the Countess’ makeup? _Saints…_ what would their fathers say if they were to walk in on this?

Yuri hums and flashes a wide smile in return, seeming to smirk at Felix’s speechlessness. "Not here, maybe. But it's popular in the eastern Alliance, over by Goneril."

Felix blinks at how carefree Yuri is about it. And at the mental picture of the famous axe-wielding Gonerils that fight off Alymrans day and night done up in _makeup,_ of all things. He folds his arms across his chest. "I don't believe you,” he argues. “They're _warriors—"_

"Oh, and tough, manly soldiers can't wear a little powder like this?" Yuri reaches over and taps Felix’s cheek with the puff in his hand, catching the raven-haired boy off guard. A wisp of powder floats in the air as Felix waves it away, his face scrunching up in detestment. It reeked of feminine scents.

Yuri laughs. "I'd like to see you make _that_ face to the Albinean warlords. Or perhaps should I have Miklan and Sylvain remind you of the Srengi heroes?"

No, Felix doesn’t need a reminder of the wild and fierce Srengi forces. While Sylvain would tell him stories of how beautiful their Valkyries are—magic-wielding women warriors on horseback that bring death and despair… Miklan would always tell more realistic and frightening tales of the male soldiers, or _heroes,_ as they call themselves. Eyes rimmed with thick black, smudged to their temples in contrast with the white sand of their barren and cold landscape. The charcoal painted on their faces as nearly as intimidating as their fighting style—toppling foes with their shields first before their blades fell.

Despite never knowing Miklan to be a liar, Felix scoffs. "Makeup is for girls,” he contests.

"Hmm,” Yuri muses aloud, dipping a brush into a small pot of pigment, “In Duscur, the rich and royal men wear their makeup like this as a symbol of their masculinity and status.” He motions to his eyes after sweeping a vibrant malachite shimmer on his lids. He wiggles his eyebrows at Felix before twisting to inspect his reflection closely in the mirror with pursed lips.

“But green doesn't really flatter my eye color, yeah?” he laughs, picking up another small brush and darkening his lashes by the corners of his eyes. “While it may not be commonplace here, there’s more to the world outside of Faerghus. You might be surprised."

After a beat of silence, Yuri tilts his chin to regard Felix again. He quirks an raised eyebrow at him as if to challenge him to a duel.

"Then let me try,” Felix grumbles despite his best attempt at having it sound like a demand. “If it makes them in Sreng or Albinea better fighters for it." He steps forward and sits on the other side of the vanity bench. Anxiously, he tightens his hands on his knees, giving up on pouting with arms folded across his chest.

Yuri laughs again, softer this time. He turns and swings a leg over the side of the bench so that he’s stradling it and looking squarely at Felix. "Well, don't go neglecting your sword practice in exchange for a little eyeshadow,” he smiles. “I'm sure with the weather in Albinea, they're able to spar year-round."

"Have you been there?" Felix asks, watching as Yuri dips a fluffy brush into a pot of rouge.

"Hmm?"

"Albinea."

Yuri looks into his eyes for a moment before moving to sweep the brush across the fullness of Felix’s cheek. The bristles are soft and tickle his skin; he flinches slightly at the new sensation. He silently prays to Seiros that Yuri can’t notice the actual flush simmering on his cheeks. While Yuri swirls the brush on his face in silence, Felix continues, prompting him. "I wish you'd tell me about the places you've been. I have never even left Faerghus."

"Well, your brother departs for Duscur next moon,” Yuri reminds him, tapping the brush off on the heel of his palm, “so when he returns, you can have him regale you with stories of their flowers and cities—"

"If you've already been, I'd rather hear it from _you,”_ Felix insists, knitting his brow together, but stubbornly keeping his eyes open. “Glenn is a boring storyteller anyway."

He studies Yuri’s face as he smirks half-heartedly, the verdant pigment on his lids glinting in the low light from the window. The older boy’s lavender eyes won’t quite meet his own. "You don't give him enough credit."

"You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"The _thing_ where you keep talking about something else,” Felix clarifies, folding his hands tightly in his lap. He focuses on the way the powder sits softly atop Yuri’s skin now that he’s seeing it so up close, their faces only a few inches apart. “My father does it all the time when he doesn't want to answer my question."

Yuri’s glossed lips twist up into a grin. "Are you calling me old?"

"No, just annoying.”

"You wound me, Felix,” he sighs, reaching for the powder puff on the dressing table. He dabs it across Felix’s cheeks, gently softening the rosy pigment he had just applied. "Before coming here, my... mother and I traveled quite a bit, yes."

"To where?" Felix presses again, defiantly.

Yuri hums, sorting through the array of expensive-looking pots and small jars... his fingertips gliding over the shining tops of each one until settling on one and plucking it from the drawer. He removes the gilded lid, revealing a pearly golden loose powder that looks as soft in hue as it does in texture. Dipping a new brush into the powder, he taps it on the edge of the metal jar and excess bits of shimmer fall from the bristles.

 _"_ Oh, you know. _Places,"_ the older boy says with a wink as he turns to face Felix again. "Now, close your eyes."

With a huff, Felix obliges. He can feel the warmth of Yuri's fingertips on his chin, delicately holding his face steady as the brush in his other hand tickles his closed eyelids. With concerned effort, he tries to keep his face as stoic as possible despite the urge to sneeze or knit his eyebrows together at the unfamiliar sensation. Felix detects the warm vanilla and tart raspberry of Yuri's favorite tea with each breath that fans across his face.

"I’ve been all over Fódlan," Yuri answers, finally. "I've spent some time in Enbarr—the city is as old as people say it is, but not nearly as inspiring. The Alliance, however, is much more forward-thinking... though maybe not the _most_ progressive in terms of foreign relations."

"Almyra?" Felix asks, opening his right eye. Yuri immediately taps him on the nose with a finger and tuts; resisting rolling his eyes, Felix shuts them again.

"Mhm," Yuri agrees, resuming the blending on the younger boy's eyelids. “They’re so much more than their military. But we haven’t made any effort to get to know them as anything other than an enemy. We’re really denying ourselves some amazing tea, spices, and fabrics, though… but for as much as the Alliance claims to hate the Almyrans, they sure do love to steal inspiration from their cuisine and fashion.”

Felix reaches out and blindly grabs Yuri’s arm, still keeping his eyes shut as instructed. “Wait—you’ve crossed Fódlan’s Throat?” he asks excitedly.

“Of course. But that was a long time ago. I hardly remember it now…” Yuri trails off, the smirk in his voice fading into something more forlorn. Felix doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t question it. Then a delicate finger brushes against his lips, and he nearly bites down on his tongue with surprise at the sudden touch.

“Sorry,” Yuri’s voice soothes, the pads of his fingers brushing against Felix’s jaw—chasing after him as he jerks away. “You know you can open your eyes now, right?”

The younger boy straightens on the vanity bench, realizing his eyes are still screwed shut. Hesitantly, Felix opens them and allows Yuri to draw his face nearer. Amber eyes affix to lavender ones, watching intently as their focus is entirely on smoothing a shiny pigment over the fullness of his lower lip.

It feels like the heat in his cheeks will melt all of the makeup off entirely. Eventually, he has to look away, averting his eyes to the ceiling and focusing on the patter of raindrops on the window pane to distract him from the antsy feeling crawling up his spine.

“Now, take a look,” Yuri tells him, gently guiding him with a hand pressed between his shoulder blades to turn and look at his reflection in the mirror.

Felix studies the person he sees in the mirror—the raven-haired boy with overgrown bangs that are awkwardly brushed to the side, not really long enough to tuck behind his ear. The sunspots from last summer on his cheek are now hidden with powder and rouge, and the angrier spots on his chin and forehead are softer and more tame with the veil overtop. The flecks of gold in his eyes are made brighter by the sheen on his lids, his lashes fuller and darker and more feminine—a sight surely Francine and Astrid and even Ingrid would all be jealous of.

And his lips are pouting and painted a modest rose color, but turned down in a frown.

“So, what do you think?” Yuri asks, his voice jarring—chilled like falling through the ice and plummeting into the frigid waters of the pond back home. When Felix, slow to react, finally looks upon Yuri’s reflection in the mirror, it makes the feeling worse. Seeing Yuri so expectant and smiling, eyes wide and waiting for him to love his artistry… it causes Felix’s frown to deepen along with his guilt and shame.

He shakes his head, wiping the rouge off of his lips with an inelegant swipe of the back of his hand. “Maybe you like this stuff,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from the mirror and from Yuri. “But I can’t hide behind all of… this… _this…”_

Felix stands suddenly, knocking into the dressing table and sending a few brushes and a jar of powder tumbling to the hardwood floor. He rubs at his eyes before the frustrated tears have a chance to show themselves, and when he pulls his hands away, they’re stained with smudged pigment and golden shimmer. What would Glenn say if he saw him now? He’d probably make fun of him for being such a crybaby on top of indulging this foolish whim.

And then there’s Yuri, who’s sitting silently—not saying a word while Felix goes about with his outburst, wiping away all of his thoughtful and careful work in a childish meltdown. But his silence speaks volumes; it feels just as lonely as the silence he gives when he dodges questions and leaves his stories half-told.

“I don’t care if _you_ do this. It’s just… me,” Felix stammers. “I can’t hide what I am… _who_ I am. This…”

He turns his head and looks at his face in the vanity mirror—now smeared and disheveled and more shameful than before. Then, he lowers his gaze to Yuri’s reflection next to his—quiet and sullen. His lavender eyes are lowered to the array of makeup on the dressing table, sad but still brilliant and beautiful. Even more so because of the viridian sheen on his lids.

“This isn’t me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm treating this week's series of prompts as a character study/exploration of both Yuri and Felix within the same AU as my main fic, _Slings and Arrows._ You can see that I've now included it as part two in that series. It's not necessary to read that fic to enjoy these short little vignettes... but if you want more mysterious, angsty, and emotionally constipated interactions between these two knuckleheads, please give _Slings and Arrows_ a read! These 5 drabbles will provide some glimpses into Yuri and Felix's past, before game events or the events in my main fic.
> 
> 🎵 [Click here for the playlist for this series of drabbles!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32LSSHmc2Rd2AbtWzIAiKU?si=fwOVyNbLR4mCMUqYdflk9g) 🎵


	2. Two of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Faerghus kids visit the Rhodos Coast in the summer of 1175. (Yuri Rare Pair Week, Day 2: Trust)
> 
> “My purse, my person, my extremest means lie all unlocked to your occasions.”  
>  _-Merchant of Venice, 1.1.145-146_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely [Telsiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telsiree/pseuds/Telsiree) beta'd this chapter for me ❤️ (And speaking of rare pairs... they are writing an incredible Hapi/Edelgard series that I know you will love as much as I do. Go check it out!!)

_Blue Sea Moon, 1175  
_ _Rhodos Coast_

"What, are you scared?"

Yuri squints against the sun and watches as Felix bristles under the laughter of Miklan and Glenn. It’s a warm summer day in Rhodos, and all of the prominent noble families flock here to enjoy the temperate season. And, since Yuri is now considered a member of House Rowe—courtesy of some stroke of luck or blessing from the goddess--he, too, gets to vacation in luxurious seaside cottages for the week, enjoying the beach and clear blue skies.

Certainly a far cry from what Yuri’s used to—freezing winters with little firewood or food beyond bland porridge, or scorching summers on the dirty streets of Enbarr… flitting about from city to city and country to country on foot with the same pair of boots lasting years past their lifespan, staying in shacks or brothels or under the stars if he absolutely had to.

And even if they like to bicker and tease each other like they do now, Yuri has friends now in the other noble children.

"I'm not," Felix insists, his response barbed like it usually is when he’s on the defensive against the older boys’ pestering. "Why don't you go pick on Francine. She's the chicken here."

"Hey, be nice,” the taller raven-haired boy responds diplomatically. Glenn Fraldarius, to be exact—the eldest son of the Kingdom’s Duke and the youngest Royal Knight in history, as well as Yuri’s closest confidant. He was the first to reach out when he was adopted by Count Rowe last autumn, and they’ve become as thick as thieves since then.

Of course, he’s gotten to know all of the other noble children quite well over the past several months. The young prince Dimitri who is as naive as he is strong, and the stalwart and honest Ingrid who chases after her younger twin brothers as often as she steals glances at Glenn, her intended. Astrid Cille Rowe, daughter of Count Rowe by birth and now Yuri’s sister, and her best friend Francine, child of the famous Gwendal the Grey Lion, couldn’t be more opposite than one another, and yet they maintain a pure and loyal friendship. In contrast, Miklan and Sylvain Gautier, while they give each other hell at every opportunity, are more alike than different.

Not that they’d ever admit that to each other, but Yuri finds it interesting to observe the group’s dynamics as a relative outsider.

His only other experiences with nobility were unsavory, to put it lightly. His only other noble acquaintance—if you could even call it that, given the circumstances—was a sweet girl that was too fearful of someone pathetic like him. But Yuri doesn’t face either scorn or fear with the Faerghus noble children—they all are as kind and welcoming as he imagines the goddess would be if she walked among mere mortals. Though he always wonders to himself if they’d treat him the same had they passed him as a beggar or a thief on the streets of Fhirdiad, which he had done before once upon a time. Or if they would turn their cheek if they saw his sorry state when Count Rowe had found him, beaten and near death on the foothills of the Oghma Mountains.

 _They’re only children,_ Yuri thinks to himself, a reminder to quiet his doubts before they spiral and ruin the beautiful day and their sandy hike up to the top of the bluff. _Of gold and privilege, too. They know not of his world. And they need not know of me, anyway._ Gulls above spiral as the soothing waves of the Abinean Sea ebb rhythmically below on the coast. 

"Tell Miklan to be nice to me," Felix retorts, jerking away from Glenn's hand on his shoulder.

"Can't! I'm too busy having fun. C'mon, Dima," Glenn says, smirking back at his younger brother and tugging the blonde prince after him. Ingrid dotes on her younger brothers as they jump off of the bluffside into the sea below, right after Dimitri and Glenn. The younger Fraldarius boy stands back and watches his friends leap off the sandy edge and into the crystal blue waters below, trying to mask his trepidation with arms folded sternly across his chest.

Yuri approaches Felix, hands clasped behind his back as he leans forward slightly. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you know," he tells him. "You have nothing to prove to anyone."

"I do, though. Every summer, I'm the only one..." Felix trails off, his voice low enough so that only the two of them can hear, and Yuri knows what he means though he doesn’t complete the sentence. "Even _Ingrid_ can do it—"

"Ingrid flies pegasi, you realize that, don't you? This is probably nothing for her," he offers as a sort of appeasement.

Felix snorts then, crinkling his nose and turning it up at the comparisons he’s likely making in his head to his friends. "So, that makes me just as pathetic as Francine," he remarks dourly. They both watch as Sylvain pulls a giggling Francine over the cliff's edge, his hands grabbing onto hers and tugging her into his taller frame as they both smile and laugh before they plummet down to the waters below. Felix's face pales, his eyes falling to the ground. "Nevermind. _More_ pathetic, I guess."

"Don't be so derisive,” Yuri scolds him gently. “It's perfectly normal to be afraid of heights."

"That's not it."

"But you can swim, I _know_ you can—"

With a huff, Felix brushes him off mid-sentence with a wave of his hand. "Just forget it, Yuri. Don't waste your time on me."

"Hey now,” Yuri says, reaching after the raven-haired boy only to have his hand swatted away when it brushes his shoulder. It does little to deter him from making his point. “What did I just say?"

"Don't be decisive, I know.”

"No, _derisive."_

Felix rolls his eyes. "Whatever _that_ means."

"It means stop being self-deprecating," Yuri explains. The younger boy returns a blank look, still not understanding. Yuri hums before his face softens with a smile curling up at the corners of his lips. "Anyway, I actually _want_ you to be decisive and jump off that stupid cliff with me."

Yuri grabs Felix's hand and ushers him along, despite his wide-eyed protests. He can tell that Felix is trying his damndest to dig his heels into the ground, but because this is the Rhodos Coast and the soil is mostly sand, Yuri can easily drag him along.

"Hey, I got you, friend," he assures his friend. "I'll be right there with you every second. And then you can say you did it—rub it in Miklan's face a little, huh?"

"It's not that easy—"

"You trust me, yeah?"

Amber eyes meet his lavender ones, and Felix nods shakily.

Instead of being dramatic like Sylvain, tugging Francine flirtatiously over the edge of the bluffside, he draws Felix in gently, like one would offer scraps to a stray cat to get them to warm to your affections. Yuri slips his hand out of his palm, clammy from fear—not from the summer heat—and wraps an arm around his torso, tugging him closely to his side. He repeats his reassurances like a prayer as they pace toward the edge.

Once they reach it, Felix peers down at the crystal blue waters below—at his friends waving up at him with smiling and bright faces. It does little to stop his muscles from tensing under Yuri’s fingers.

“Breathe,” Yuri reminds him, demonstrating with an exaggerated inhale. Felix’s frightened gaze meets his with a stiff nod as he follows suit, his chest rising as his lungs expand. They exhale together as sea breeze swirls around them, rustling the juniper and flowering bee balm. “I’m right at your side, Felix. You can do this.”

The younger Fraldarius looks over to the horizon, where the blue of the sea meets the blue of the sky. In a timid and most uncharacteristic voice, he murmurs, “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then we turn around and head back,” Yuri tells him tenderly. “I wouldn’t think any less of you.”

 _“They_ will, though,” he winces as the words leave his lips.

Yuri tugs Felix closer to him to get his attention, and the younger boy looks up at him under his dark lashes—so skittish like a frightened animal. “Don’t mind them,” Yuri soothes. “It’s just you and I here. And whatever you decide, I’ll be there with you.”

His thumb rubs reassuring circles into the back of his hand in an effort to calm his friend, steady and kind gestures, and Yuri realizes this is a lot like gentling a horse. Or leading a horse to water—literally.

And Felix… stubborn, bullish Felix who worries too much about what others say about him, and cries when he loses a spar against a taller Sylvain or a much older and stronger Miklan… Felix, whose moods are as turbulent as a sea storm on the shores of Brigid or as abrasive as a haboob across the cities of Morfis… Felix who feels trapped and alone in the shadows of his brother Glenn and his friend, the Prince Dimitri…

Yuri pulls the younger boy out of that shadow and into the brilliant sunshine of this perfect summer day here at the oceanside in Rhodos… the wind and sea spray whistling past them as they fall together into the warm azure waves below. When they rise to the surface of the water and foam, Yuri smiles impossibly wide as he sees Felix run his free hand through his dark hair, droplets running like pearls down the strands and clinging to his brow and bridge of his nose which is now tanned from the spring and early weeks of summer.

He blinks the water out of his eyes and looks back at Yuri, less afraid and more relieved than anything—Felix’s other hand still tightly holding onto his own as they both tread water. The others start cheering, and Yuri watches a genuine smile break open on the younger boy’s face. He mirrors the expression on Felix’s face for a moment longer before releasing his hand, allowing him to swim over to meet his brother and friends.

Looking up at the bluff that towers overhead, he sees the figures of Miklan and Ingrid clap their hands and call out their plaudits for the young Fraldarius below. There’s a chill in the water that creeps up his spine, and Yuri suppresses a shiver. He turns his eyes to the halcyon sky above and the lone cloud that drifts so artlessly above.

As the others splash each other playfully and swim back to the shore to climb the bluff again… Yuri leans back into the water, floating somber and solitary just like the cumulus above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵 [Click here for the playlist for this series of drabbles!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32LSSHmc2Rd2AbtWzIAiKU?si=fwOVyNbLR4mCMUqYdflk9g) 🎵


	3. Eight of Pentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is up to something in the castle kitchens in the middle of the night, and Felix decides to help. (Yuri Rare Pair Week, Day 3: Cooking)
> 
> “Grieve not that I am fall'n to this for you, For herein Fortune shows herself more kind than is her custom.”  
>  _-Merchant of Venice 4.1.257-259_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incomparable [Telsiree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telsiree/pseuds/Telsiree) beta'd this chapter! ❤️

_ Horsebow Moon, 1176  
_ _ Castle Fhirdiad _

Felix wakes to his sheets sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin, having awoken from a bad dream. It isn’t like one of those nightmares that jolt you out of bed, gasping for breath. No—he eases out of this nightmare and into consciousness like he is being gently guided from one horror to the other. And upon waking, Felix realizes he much rather would be back in the bad dream.

He used to creep out of his room and into Glenn’s when his dreams troubled him. Even when staying at Castle Fhirdiad where he is now, they’d have rooms side-by-side. But if Felix were to gather his blankets in his arms and plod down the cold and creaky floors of the second floor corridor… Glenn’s room would be empty, his bed cold and duvet neatly tucked under the edges of the mattress.

Just as it had been for the last few moons.

Unable to fall back asleep, Felix takes instead to his new habit on sleepless nights like this one. With stocking feet and hair mussed, he slips out of his room and drifts down the hallway past where his mother and father are asleep, past where the Gautiers, Galateas, Rowes, and Charons occupy each guest room in this wing of the castle. Usually all of the noble houses in the Kingdom gather at Fhirdiad for special events and celebrations—but this week, they’re gathered to pick up the pieces after what took place in Duscur a season ago.

A few moons have passed since, but it still feels like it was only yesterday that a lone rider returned to the Kingdom capital with the news.

Felix was at Castle Fhirdiad when Glenn departed for Duscur, along with King Lambert, Queen Patricia, and Dimitri. And he hasn’t left the castle since.

When he wanders the halls on nights like tonight, where sleep evades him, he wonders if Glenn has found his way back here to haunt the corridors alongside him. Felix doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he can’t help himself imagining Glenn’s spirit floating beside him as he descends the staircase to the main floor. He passes by paintings of times old in the dim flicker of candlelight in bronze sconces… mistaking the gaze of Kyphon as that of his brother, only to realize that it’s only oil paint on dusty canvas.

At the end of the grand corridor, there’s a beam of light cast onto the stone floor from a door left slightly ajar. As Felix approaches, he realizes two things—that the glow is coming from the kitchen, and that he can hear singing.

It’s a simple melody, though the words aren’t familiar to Felix. He pauses at the door, standing in the shadows and curious just to listen to the tune. He’s not sure why one of the cooks would be preparing food at this hour, but the crackling hearth and the scrape of ceramic bowls make a pleasant accompaniment to their song. When he peeks into the kitchen, Felix is surprised to see Yuri instead—still in his nightclothes and peeling the skin off of one of several small orange gourds at the kitchen bench.

And singing to himself. Though, the song stops when Yuri lifts his lavender gaze toward Felix standing in the door frame with arms folded.

“You’re up,” Yuri observes with a small smile that barely reaches his eyes. He swipes the pile of rind from the board into a towel and moves to discard the scraps. “I should say that you should be asleep… but, I’m happy to see you out and about.”

Felix enters into the kitchen without ask or invite, the shiver in his spine vanishing as the autumn chill creeping into the castle is replaced with herbaceous aroma and warmth from the fire. The air is moist, and he feels it cling comfortingly to his cheeks—Yuri must have water boiling away over the hearth.

“What are  _ you  _ doing up?” Felix counters instead, not wishing to talk about himself or the fact that this might be the first time Yuri’s seen him leave his room since that day. But then again, that’s always the case with the older boy. If Felix were to leave his room everyday and wander the castle in the daylight, everyone would see him, inevitably—his father and mother, Sylvain, Ingrid, Dimitri and the Duscur boy that is inseparable from him… But deep down, Felix knows that none of them would really  _ see  _ him.

Only Yuri seems to do that. See  _ him. _

“Couldn’t sleep. I’m sure it’s the same for you?” Yuri quirks an eyebrow as Felix approaches the bench with a handful of bowls laid out, filled with various ingredients. The taller boy motions to the mise en place spread out before them. “So I figured I’d cook something, now that the cooks have all gone to sleep.”

Felix blinks at the silver knife chopping the orange gourd into smaller pieces, and then blinks at Yuri. “You can cook?” he asks incredulously, even though he can clearly observe that the answer is yes.

But instead of a nod or affirming words, Yuri just laughs at Felix. “Why don’t you help me? You’ll like what’s on the menu,” he offers teasingly, waving him over to the other side of the bench.

Normally, Felix would decline. He knows what he’s good at, and sticks to that. Anything else, like piano and poetry and all of those stupid things his mother has him learn… he hates doing because they don’t give him the feeling that having a sword in hand does. And since Felix has never once prepared any kind of food… he should shake his head and fold his arms and refuse to avoid the shame of failure or the sting of apprehension.

But he wordlessly meanders over to stand beside Yuri at the kitchen bench, because somehow, the lavender-haired boy always finds a way to override Felix’s common sense. Much to Yuri’s delight.

In fact, he’s smiling at him now and shuffling ingredients his way. A bowl of bits of green leaves, a bowl of what looks like uncooked eggs… and a heaping pile of those chunks of orange gourd.

“Alright, my little sous chef,” Yuri grins, “start by mashing the pumpkin with this.” He hands Felix a simple fork, and then turns and tends to his pot of boiling water and another cast iron pan on the coals.

Perhaps Felix is too tired or too tired of crying to grumble at the menial task, but he obliges wordlessly. He wonders idly if Glenn had ever joined Yuri in the kitchens late at night when neither of them could sleep… and what inspired dish the lavender-haired boy would whip up for them both. Part of him wishes Yuri would go back to singing, but a comfortable silence falls between them instead as they enjoy each other’s company.

“Ok then,” Felix murmurs, wiping his face with the back of his hand which is now slimy with soft roasted pumpkin. He studies the bowls of the other ingredients skeptically, pointing at one in particular. “What do you want me to do with this white powder stuff?”

Yuri hums in surprise, floating over to peek over Felix’s shoulder before busting into a fit of giggles. “That’s flour,” he corrects, breath warm on his shoulder. “And you can start mixing the flour into the pumpkin along with the eggs.”

Felix blinks dumbly at the flour and eggs… and the mess of mashed pumpkin spread all over the wooden bench top. Picking up on his hesitation, the older boy chimes in with additional instructions.

“Oh, it will probably be easier if you ditch the fork and just start mixing with your hands.”

“Is there… a bowl?”

“Nope.”

“Then  _ where  _ exactly do you expect me to mix this?” Felix quips, his brow furrowing as he looks back at his friend.

“You can just mix it on the bench—” Yuri stops mid-sentence and is staring at Felix with a funny smile. The expression gives Felix an equally funny feeling in his chest.

“What, do I have something on my face or something?” he demands a little more sharply than he intended. He turns his face away from Yuri’s prying eyes, then clears his throat to soften his tone. “You don’t have to stare—”

“You do have something on your face,” Yuri hums, now very close to him. His warm hand rests on his shoulder while delicate fingers tilt Felix’s chin back in his direction and under the scrutiny of his gaze. With a swipe of his thumb, Yuri brushes a smudge of orange pumpkin off of his nose.

Looking content with the sight before him, the older boy smiles down at him… the hand on his shoulder squeezing gently before falling back to his side. Felix misses the warmth, but doesn’t speak about it. He murmurs thanks, and turns back to the bench and begins hesitantly mixing together the pumpkin, flour, and egg into a sticky dough. Every few moments, Yuri pops back over next to him to add another generous sprinkling of flour—Felix would do it himself, but his fingers are covered in the glutinous bits of pale orange dough. Whatever Yuri’s working on behind him smells incredible, he thinks to himself while he kneads the dough into a smooth ball. 

“What are you cooking, anyway?” Felix decides to ask, conversation coming easier than it has in the months since that day. He dusts his hands off on a spare towel laying on the bench top.

“Well,  _ we  _ are cooking a little dish that I once had in Boramas,” Yuri explains, pausing to taste the thin golden sauce that he’s stirring in the pan over the coals. “Though they used turnips and other root vegetables… I figured I’d make my own adjustments. You like pumpkin, yeah?”

“Pumpkin is usually too sweet for my liking,” Felix shrugs.

Yuri laughs again, this time more melodic than the last. “Oh my dear friend, we’re not making pie or pastries. This is like pasta—you’ll enjoy it,” he assures, nudging his friend with his elbow. “I promise that you won’t have wandered down here for nothing. It’ll be a feast for the two of us alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵 [Click here for the playlist for this series of drabbles!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32LSSHmc2Rd2AbtWzIAiKU?si=fwOVyNbLR4mCMUqYdflk9g) 🎵


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